


Crossroads and Underhill

by jaimistoryteller



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Magic, Resurrection, fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 12:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4391876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimistoryteller/pseuds/jaimistoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo comes across a crossroads fae who grants him a wish</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avelera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avelera/gifts).



> Happy birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Lots of thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for all of her help

Bilbo’s POV  
He was traveling with Gandalf back to the Shire. His love lost to him forever, body entombed in stone with his nephews and all the dwarrow who had died during the original attack on Erebor. They were only a few days away from the Shire when he found himself awakening one night, drawn by some force he does not recognize to leave the safety of his camp. Taking Sting with him, he follows the feeling, finding himself standing at a crossroads surrounded by oak trees.

His eyes narrow as he looks around, but he says nothing as he continues to scan the area. What is that feeling?

“A hobbit at my crossroads? How very interesting,” a soft voice purrs from behind him.

He spins, glancing between Sting and the stranger, trying to identify who or what this was.

 “Keeper of the Crossroads,” the voice states as it steps into the moonlight. It appears to be an elven woman at first glance, but he immediately realizes that it is not. There is something different about her. Her ears are longer than any elf he has ever seen, her eyes lack pupils and are gleaming emerald, and her skin is a pale green moss tone. Very little in the way of clothing covers her body, only barely keeping her modesty, and what is there seems to be made of some shimmery material that changes colors in the pale moonlight. Long black hair falls far past her hips and sways around her in the light wind.

Staring, he studies her, his mind racing as he tries to figure out exactly what she is, they are in a crossroads, and there are oak trees, and she looks like an elf but isn’t one. That means she must be a fae creature. What would a fae creature want with him?

“A trade,” she answers, “I will grant you one wish if you can entertain me until dawn.”

He thinks about it for a time before slowly nodding, “Do you like stories?”

Smiling, she waves a hand, and the roots of some of the nearby plants seem to rise up to make seats. “Begin whenever you are ready,” she tells him as she settles onto the first root seat.

For a minute he eyes the seat before shrugging and tucking his sword away. Something tells him that it would be useless anyways if he had to fight her with it. Settling onto the second seat he begins, “There once was a hobbit…” over the following hours he tells her of his and the Company's adventure and journey all the way through to the dramatic battle at the end. To keep it interesting, he changes his voice to mimic those of the others, and often uses his hands to speak. When he is done, he finally stops, taking a long breath and realizing he is thirsty.

The sun is just beginning to peak over the edge of the horizon, the sky shot with rays of vibrant purple, fiery red, and pumpkin orange.

“That was an interesting tale,” she remarks as she glances at the sunlight. Cocking her head to the side and blinking eyes that now seem to be sapphire in tone, she inquires, “Was it real?”

He nods enthusiastically, “Every bit of it: The hobbit running out of his smial, fighting giant spiders, orcs, and wargs, dealing with magical animals and plants, escaping the Elven king's dungeon, dealing with a red dragon, and the lake, and finally the battle between orcs, giant eagles, dwarves, humans, and elves.”

Several minutes pass in silence as the sun rises even further in the sky, lighting up the trees and making them look like they are on fire. “What do you wish for Bilbo of the Shire?”

“I would wish for Thorin, Kíli, and Fíli brought back from the dead mind, body, and soul.” He finally and slowly requests.

Again there is several minutes of silence before she finally answers, “That is a major wish. Not one that is easily granted. I will grant it, but at a further cost. Either you or them must not remember the other. All memories of the other will be forever wiped from their mind. If you ever run across each other again, new memories could be made, but none from the moment you met until now could ever be brought back.”

He doesn’t even have to think of it before answering, “Allow them to forget, they don’t need to know me, just live.”

Her eyes narrow curiously as she queries, “But you love this dwarf, why would you willingly remember someone who will never remember you?”

“Because I love him, of course. I can survive the heartache and pain just by knowing he is somewhere in the world with his family, but he has suffered so much pain in his life he shouldn’t have to wonder.” He replies without thinking about it.

Yes, the Shire would be lonely with him knowing that Thorin is out there somewhere and will never know he existed, but it was so much better than him being buried forever before his time.

“Then seal the deal with a kiss,” she murmurs as waves a hand at him.

Narrowing his eyes he asks, “How do I know you are telling the truth and will keep your end of the bargain?”

Smiling, her now watery looking skin gleams in the sunlight, “By my true name I swear. But here,” a small bubble of water appears above her hand, slowly it solidifies into a small blue-green gem. “This topaz will turn complete green, the moss color of my night time skin when I have completed my end of the bargain.”

Standing, he walks over to where she is, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Finally he nods, leaning forward to lightly press his lips against hers. As soon as he does so, he feels the energy surround them and flare about before she vanishes, the roots return to their place, and a small blue-green topaz drops to the ground in front of him.

Blinking, he picks it up before wandering back to camp. He is both wide awake and exhausted. Hopefully Gandalf will let him wave it off as inability to sleep. When he gets back to camp, he finds that the old wizard is still out, so he curls back into his bed and slumbers himself.

When he awakens again it is to the smell of coffee, though where the wizard got coffee from he will never know.

“Tomorrow morning we will be on the edge of the Shire, Bilbo, a few days after that we will be back in Hobbiton.” The old man informs him as he passes the steaming mug.

Smiling in relief, he nods before taking a sip.

A little over an hour later they are on the road again and pass the crossroads he could have sworn he had seen the fae woman at the night before, but there is not an oak tree to be seen anywhere.


	2. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Lots of thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for all of her help
> 
> So it took way longer to write this than expected cause three of my cats keep laying on my arms and back, which make it really hard to type.

Thorin’s POV  
 He awoke with a gasp, tingly pain shooting through his entire body, a burning sensation echoing from every wound he had suffered during his battle. Gradually the pain recedes, clearing from his mind and body. He felt stiff, cold, and achy like it has been a while since he last moved.  Slowly opening his eyes, it takes a few minutes for him to adjust to the darkness surrounding him, the only light being that given off by the Arkenstone resting on his chest and reflected in the gemstones scattered around the room.

Lifting the stone from his chest, he sits up and jumps as his sword clashes to the ground. Around him are his ancestors and clansmen, many dwarrows who had died during the attack on Erebor. On either of him are his nephews, cleaned up and laid out as well. Tears fill his eyes as he remembers the battle and the moment they had died. He had died too, yet now he was awake. Perhaps he was a shade?

A low groan pulls his attention, and he finds himself turning to see his blonde haired nephew slowly moving. Not possible, he was skewered by the pale orc before being dropped to his death.  He can do nothing but stare. When the younger man starts to move, hope and fear blossom. Another noise draws his attention to the young dwarf on the other side. He too is moving and awakening. How  is this even possible?

“Uncle?” Kíli mutters as he rubs his eyes, “Why are we in the crypt? Last thing I remember is fighting with that orc and Tauriel.”

“I think we are or were dead,” he answers gruffly, his voice hoarse from disuse.

“As much as I respect our dead, can we get out of here now?” Fíli asks as he sits up and stretches.

He nods, stretching a bit more before trying to stand, his legs not wishing to support him right off.  Several minutes pass while the three of them adjust to being alive again and moving before he stumbles to the door. It takes him a minute of searching his memory for the word to open the door.

 _“Mornitrar,”_ he murmurs, eyes narrowing as the door slides open.

He leaves his sword and the Arkenstone in the tomb, walking out slowly into the hall before the crypt. There are two guards posted at the end, both of which stare at him and his nephews with fear and horror in their eyes. Both step out of their way as they make their way to the city proper.

His eyes sweep over everything, ignoring the people as he takes in all of the repairs and changes. It is almost the Erebor of his youth. Dwarrows fill the halls, the scents of people are everywhere and varied, everything from meats cooking to metalsmithing.  Absentmindedly, he makes his way to the wall, knowing that something had happened here that is important, but unable to recall what it is. He is still standing there, his nephews flanking him and staring out as well when Nori and Balin approach from different directions.

“Thorin?” the advisor hesitantly asks, something in his tone he does not recognize. “Fíli? Kíli?”

Turning, he smiles at his friend and nods, “Balin, you look well.”

He is only a little surprised when Nori’s knife appears out of nowhere and flicks a small cut on Fíli’s cheek.

"They’re real alright,” the thief dwarf mutters, “How’d the burglar know?”

“I do not know, but this is grand news!” the advisor replies before startling him with a tight hug and a clap on the back. “It is good to have you back!” The action is repeated with both his nephews, while the dwarf beams at him. “We should go see Dáin,” his long time friend suggests, “Nori, gather the rest of the company.”

After considering it for a moment, the auburn haired dwarf nods before vanishing into the shadows.

“There is so much to discuss! It has been months since your passing. When Bilbo’s letter first arrived telling us that you may come back, none of us believed it.” The white haired advisor tells him as the four of them make their way through Erebor to the throne room.

“Who’s Bilbo?” Kíli asks during a pause.

Spinning around to stare at him, disbelief in his eyes the advisor repeats that question, “Who’s Bilbo? You don’t remember?” worriedly, the older man looks between all three of them, watching as they shake their heads.

He cannot remember ever hearing of a dwarf named Bilbo. Truthfully, it is not even a dwarrow name. Maybe this Bilbo character comes from one of the southern clans that deals with humans far more. Why would this Bilbo know they were coming back? If they were dead there should be no way they would know. Perhaps he would look into this person later.

“Do you remember the rest of the company?” The white-haired dwarf asks worriedly.

Frowning, he names off all of them, including his nephews. There are only thirteen names. Why did they make this journey with only thirteen when that is a traditionally an unlucky number. There seem to be far more questions than answers currently.

He is pulled from his thoughts by his cousin bear-hugging him to the point it is nearly hard to breathe before clanking their heads together in the traditional greeting between family and close friends.

“Thorin!” the red-haired dwarf exclaims happily. “Fíli! Kíli!” The red-haired dwarf hugs them as well.

“Dáin, please catch me up, if you are not too busy.” He requests as the red-haired dwarf leads him to the dining area off to the side of the throne room.

When he steps in, the company is there waiting for him, though he gets the impression someone or something is missing. He shakes it off and sets to catching up with the other dwarrows as they eat a meal provided by Bombur. As they visit, he listens closely to everything they talk about, from the rebuilding of Dale and Erebor, to the trade agreements with the elvenking, Gandalf and the situation he seems to have found himself in, and the repeated mentioning of this Bilbo character.  Curiosity finally gets the better of him and he asks his long time friend Dwalin for a private word.

“What’s wrong?” the surly dwarf asks once they are on their own.

“Everyone keeps mentioning this Bilbo. I have no memories of ever meeting a Bilbo, let alone traveling with one.” He answers seriously, wondering if there is anything else he has forgotten.

There are several long moments of silence while the two dwarves stand there deep in thought.

Finally the other dwarf answers, “Bilbo is a good friend,” there is a pause, as if he is considering something more, “A very good friend. I think it would be best if you met him rather than I try to tell you about it, but that would require at least two months travel to the Shire.”

“I’ll think about it,” he responds, shocked that the other dwarf would suggest he ignore his responsibilities.

Over the next few days he adjusts, learning about the new Erebor and discovering that he no longer feels the draw to it that he once felt. Finally, after nearly a month and just days before his coronation, his nephews finally catch him alone.

“Uncle, I am thinking of going back to the Blue Mountains with the group going to retrieve those who want to come back.” Kíli tells him quietly, his tone nervous.

“Do you really want to be king, uncle?”  Fíli asks just as quietly.

Shocked, he stares at the young dwarrow, waiting for one of them to explain. Sharing a very speaking glance, the brothers seem to silently decide who will be the spokesmen for them before Fíli starts talking.

“We noticed that you are restless, antsy, not settling in. When you think no one notices, your hands trail over the map and past the mountains. You ask about this Bilbo person rather a lot. Whenever someone asks you about the coronation, you seem distant and disinterested. The passion and fire you radiated on the journey here is gone, replaced by a sadness,” the young blonde dwarf shrugs. “We’re worried about you.”

Twice he opens his mouth to answer, twice he snaps it shut. Before they awoke from being dead, he would have been furious that they question his honor and responsibility, his drive to succeed, but not now. Now he understands that is not what they are doing.

“Let me think about it,” he replies, “We can discuss it further after dinner.”

“Alright uncle,” the younger dwarrows reply, each hugging him before the pair leaves.

Frowning, he heads to the forge, asking the head of the guild if he may use one of the smaller forges for a time. The dwarf agrees quickly, providing him with everything he may need. For several hours he loses himself to the work, allowing his mind to go through each of the details and facts even as he continues to work the metal. What finally makes him decide that he should go is when he realizes he has made courting beads, though they are different than the average bead, made for a different, smoother hair than any dwarf he has ever met.

Perhaps he should go meet this Bilbo.

He will ask Fíli if he will become the king at the coronation instead. Only if his nephew was willing to take on the mantle would he go, otherwise he would stay and do the responsible thing. Tucking the beads into his pocket, he heads to his room. He gets cleaned up before heading to the dining hall where the family eats at. There he nods to the boys that he would like to talk when they are done. Through dinner he visits with his cousin, discussing the upcoming coronation.

After dinner, his nephews wait for him before the three withdraw to the wall where they had their original conversation.

“Have you decided uncle?” Fíli asks once they are by themselves.

“First I must ask about the coronation: do you plan to be crowned and, if so, do you wish to be?” he asks seriously, watching the blonde dwarf for his reaction.

Slowly the younger man nods, “I do, you and maamr have both taught me the value of responsibility since I was old enough to understand. I can do this, plus Dáin and Balin will be here to give me advice if I really need it.”

“Are you sure?” he inquires, wanting to make sure.

“I am." There is a pause for a moment before the younger dwarf continues,  "Uncle, if you wish to come back and take the throne you can. Otherwise, you have been through a lot. You lead us out of despair when grandfather could not, helped us to build a new home, and take back this one. You deserve some happiness, and we do not think you will find that here at this point.” The blonde haired dwarf explains.

“Then in three days it will be your coronation. After that I will travel with the group going to the Blue Mountains, only I will head to this Shire to see if I can find this Bilbo.” He decides. Almost as soon as he says it, he is surprised by the relief that floods him. He has a purpose again, and always does better with a purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two Dwarven words are from these two sites [Storm Nexus](http://www.stormnexus.org/Dwarven_Language) and [LOTR Forum ](https://www.lotro.com/forums/showthread.php?390991-Thramili-s-Khuzdul-Dictionary\(revisited\))


	3. Underhill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Lots of thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for all of her help

_Thorin’s POV_  
Three weeks after the coronation, he is part of a convoy heading to the Blue Mountains in order to move any of those who wish to come back to Erebor. He will travel with them as far as he can before taking the road to Bree and the Shire beyond. The journey takes just over two months before they part ways, and he spends another two weeks travelling. He is four days out from the Shire and this Bilbo, when he finds himself in a rather unusual situation.

He is at a crossroads, but it is not the road he was just travelling on. Everything about this road is different, from the type of gravel to the trees to the other plants. Even the air smells different. Stopping, he glances around, waiting to see what is going to happen next. His mind is wracking through all the warnings and legends he has ever heard about crossroads of this nature. The one thing they all state is to hold still and stop moving.

“My, my, a dwarf coming through my crossroad under the light of a full moon,” elven looking woman with emerald eyes murmurs as she materializes, “You are familiar to me.”

“Thorin Oakenshield at your service,” he introduces himself with a bow.

Curiously, she drifts closer, long pointed ears flickering, “How odd, introducing yourself to me in such a manner. Most know better.”

A low chuckle escapes him as he responds, “That may be my public name, but it is by no means my full name or true name. I know of your kind, Mistress.”

She claps her hands together, laughter bubbling from her lips, “Wonderful!”

There is silence between them for a time as he tries to consider how to get himself out of this situation without offending the fae woman. Fae creatures can be very dangerous because of their magical abilities.

“Thorin,” she repeats before exclaiming, “Oh! You are the one the hobbit wished for returned from death, along with two young males. That makes this even more interesting!”

Shocked, he stares at her as he processes her words. That hobbit wished for him and his nephews to be brought back from the dead? Hobbit, the word used to describe Bilbo on several occasions. He vaguely remembers hobbits from his travels. Most dwarves refer to them as Halflings because of their small size. So this Bilbo must have been someone very important to him for him to wish for his life.

“I offer you the same deal I offered him. Entertain me until dawn and I shall grant you one wish.” She tells him as she motions to the surrounding trees and a pair of seats rise up. She settles onto the first and motions to the second for him.

He thinks about the offer for a few minutes before settling into the other seat.

“Would you hear ancient songs of Durin Folk lore?” He asks seriously.

She waves her hand at him, “Please proceed. I have been told you have a marvelous singing voice.”

Taking a deep breath, his mind calls up the oldest of songs and once he is sure he will not miss any words, he begins to sing. Hours pass as he sings the Tale of Mahal and how he created the dwarrow. As the sun starts to rise on the horizon, he finishes the last of the song.

“He is right. You have a wonderful singing voice.” She murmurs as he falls silent. “Since you have managed to keep me entertained until dawn, what would you wish for Thorin Oakenshield?”

He thinks about it long and hard, knowing to be exact in his wording so that the creature could not twist his meaning. “It is my wish that Kíli and Fíli shall know peace in their life. “

“Hmmm, a difficult one, I cannot ensure that there is no violence.” She replies after thinking about it for a bit.

“I understand that. Life can have violence and still be overall peaceful. A person may know peace by finding the place or person that makes them feel whole.” He responds without taking the time to actually consider who he is talking to.

“This is true.” She nods, her dark hair starting to lighten in the early light, her coloring going from shades of green to shades of blue. “My grove here at the crossroads between above and below has always brought me great comfort and peace. I will grant this wish.” Standing, she motions to the trees which fade back to their spots properly. “A good day to you, Thorin Oakenshield.”

A moment later he is back on the road he had started off on. Looking around, he nods before remarking, “A good day to you, Keeper of Crossroads.”

He has taken two steps when a little stone appears out of nowhere. His years working with metal and gemstones allow him to identify it as jasper of high quality in a smooth, polished oval shape.

 _As a token of my word,_ he hears whispered on the wind, _as long as it is unbroken, my promise holds._

Startled, he mutters, “Thank you.”

 _It will also guide you to the hobbit, as he has a stone of a similar nature from his wish._ She tells him seriously before her presence seems to vanish.

He nods, and despite the fact he is tired, continues on his way. Tonight he will rest, for now, there is daylight to be travelled in.


	4. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr about my stories: [JaimiStoryTeller](http://jaimistoryteller.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you for any form of communication, I love it and it keeps me writing!
> 
> Lots of thanks to NoOrdinarySouthernGirl for all of her help

Bilbo’s POV  
It was the night after the celebration of Midsummer when he heard the steady knock at the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so he tilts his head to the side and twitches his nose, considering whether he wants to answer the door or not. Maybe if he ignores it they will go away. When several long moments pass without the knocking stopping, he finally sighs and stands. He really does not want company, so he will send whoever it is on their way.

He is very surprised when he pulls the door open, a scathing farewell dying before it even exits his lips. Standing before him is the impossible. Rubbing his eyes, he shuts and reopens the door, expecting to see someone else. Still the vision stands there, a familiar frustrated and confused look in dark blue eyes.

“Thorin?” he whispers, never had he expected his friend to show up here.

“Are you Bilbo?” the dark-haired dwarf inquires politely, that harsh tone he was so used to replaced with something smoother.

“I, yes, hello, please come in,” he mutters as he steps out of the way. “Shoes off by the door, just polished the floor yesterday and would not like it scuffed.”

Nodding silently, his unexpected guest steps in and removes his boots after a moment of thought.

“Would you like some milk, tea, hot chocolate, or wine?” he inquires politely, the manners drilled into him as a child surfacing.

This seems to startle the dwarf, who blinks at him for a long moment before answering, “Hot chocolate, if it is not inconvenient.”

A sad smile curves his lips as he nods and heads to the kitchen. Humming to himself, he sets to heating up milk and getting out the chocolate mix. He will have a hot chocolate as well. Certain that the chocolate will help settle his nerves. When he is done, he turns to head into the living room, freezing in place when he spots the dwarf in his kitchen.

“Umm, here you go,” he offers the mug full of steaming hot chocolate.

“Thank you,” the taller man responds as he accepts the cup and takes a sip.

Floundering for a minute, he finally inquires, “Would you like to sit here or out in the living room? I have a feeling there is a reason you’re here.”

Glancing about, the dwarf thinks about it as he sips at hot chocolate, “Here will be fine.”

Nodding, he sets some more milk to simmer before settling at his table, his mind recalling the last time he had a dwarf in his house. That night had changed his life. Some reason he has a feeling this is going to be another life changing night. Why is Thorin here? He seems not to remember him. So why would he have come here? He will have to ask. Normally he is not the hesitant type, but how to ask the man he loves, who doesn’t remember him, why he is here.

They finish their first cups of hot chocolate without another word being spoken and are well into their second when his companion finally starts speaking.

“I woke up in the family crypt, with both my nephews, only to discover that we had been dead for nearly four months. I remembered everything, or so I thought, until the dwarrows of the company kept telling me about a Bilbo. I do not have any memories of you, none whatsoever.” Closing his eyes, the dwarf pauses for a long time, finishing his hot chocolate and setting his cup aside. “I felt restless, like I was missing something. Finally my nephews suggested that I come here. See if I could find what it is I was missing.”

As his friend speaks, he feels his guts clinching. Sorrow rips through him because he knows all the missing time that Thorin is feeling. All of the touches, the talks, the shared smiles, each of the times they had curled up together after the day on the cliff. They had been building something more. Then came the day where he had both betrayed and protected Thorin by taking the Arkenstone away and giving it to Bard. He had only wanted his dwarf back, and if the only way to do that was to take the stone, then that is what he would do. Only it didn’t work. Instead the man he was falling in love with threatened to throw him off the wall and kill him. So he left, rejoined Gandalf and the other, but he kept an ear out, tried to defend the dwarves as best as he could. His dwarf had come back to himself, defending his home and attacking the orcs but he was still lost to him, or so he thought.

When word had come that there was about to be a second attack, he had gone after the dwarf to tell him. Even knowing his welcoming might not be warm. So he had been shocked by Thorin’s reaction to him when he had reached him, listening to him once more and calling for a retreat so that they could regroup. Before it had happened he had been hit and knocked unconscious. During that time Fíli and Kíli had both been killed and Thorin was dying. He had held the dwarf as he took his last breath, apologized, and forgave him.

It had nearly broken him.

So when the chance to bring him back, even if he would never have him again, came he had no choice but to try. That gemstone was sitting beside his sword and journal, he had checked it often from the day he got it until the day it changed colors. That day he had cried, knowing his friend and love was alive but would never be his.

“If you would like to stay, I have a spare bedroom, you are welcome to it Thorin,” he finally says after pulling himself from his thoughts.

Smiling, the older man nods, “I would like that.”

“Brilliant,” he replies with a smile.

They spend the rest of the evening visiting and getting to know each other once more. It is just the beginning, he thinks, but it is something. When they finally get sleepy, he shows the taller man to his better spare bedroom before bidding him good night. 

Just before he closes the door, the dwarf softly states, “It’s odd, but I feel more at home now, than I did in the time between when I woke up and left Erebor. I always thought that is where I would feel at home, but it wasn’t.” His voice is even quieter as he bids him, “Goodnight Bilbo.”

Smiling, he replies just as softly, “Sleep well Thorin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's that. There may eventually be a sequel that goes into what happens next but for now this is done. 
> 
> Once more Happy Birthday Avelera


End file.
